Title: Learn to Fly: Chapter Three, I will come back
Rating: PG [mild language]

Summary: Melanie kicks Dave out of her studio, but he is relentless...




He had no clue what he had done to deserve that, to be kicked out of her studio. But there Dave stood, on the opposite side of a closed door, staring at it. He seriously believed they had made some connection, but apparently not. In any event, he would uphold his end of the bargain, if only to see her again.


Mel fumed, staring at the slammed behind him door for what felt like ages. Finally pulling her fiery eyes off the wooden barrier, she stomped over to her canvases. Her eyes narrowed upon them. A moment later she yanked a tube of paint out of her storage case and uncapped it. With a guttural growl, she squirted the bright red paint onto the canvas. Her right hand moved up and smeared the paint around the canvas, only glimpses of the earlier blue swirls appearing in the angry red splotches. With the tube of red empty, she reached for a second tube and squirted it all over the second canvas. Using the same red hand, she smeared the black paint all over the second one, once again hiding the blue swirls under an angry coat. A third tube, this one purple, was emptied on the third canvas. Stepping back, her dark eyes glared at the canvases, as if her sour mood were their fault.

"He had no right to....UGH!" she stomped over to the sink, turning the hot water on to wash the myriad of angry colours on her palm.

As the water continued to run, continued to heat, Mel's anger began to subside. In its place a longing and a sadness began to seep. In her newly refound ennui, she did not notice the heat of the water on her hand until it was almost scalding. Snapping her hand back she stared at the reddened skin, almost expecting it to blister while she stared at it. When it didn't, she collapsed to the floor of her kitchenette, pulling her knees to her chin. Her body shook with uncontrolled sobs, though no sound nor tears were emitted.

It was here on her kitchen floor, the water still running, though now cold as it had exhausated the water heater's supply of water, her landlady found her the following day.

"Melanie!" she gasped, hurrying over to the girl.

She usually did not intrude upon the girl's privacy, but then again the two single women, one grayed and mellow, one colourful and lost, always shared breakfast. She had come to think of Melanie as the daughter she never had and was therefore concerned when the angsty girl did not appear for breakfast.

She was also the only one Mel allowed to call her by her full name.

"Melanie!" she exclaimed again, shaking the young woman.

Slowly the dark-haired girl stirred, her eyes crusted with tears. Blinking madly she tried to focus on whomever was standing over her. It took her a few moments to realize who it was.

"Oh, Ana," Mel started to push up into a seated position, with the help of the older woman. "What time is it?"

"Half past noon. I worried when you didn't come for breakfast and then didn't answer your phone. Are you all right?" she asked softly.

The girl nodded, "I think so. I was... I just... yesterday wasn't good."

"What happened?" Anne questioned, standing to turn the faucet off.

"Dave happened."

A silver brow arched, "Who?"

"A man I met at the coffehouse," she explained, hands going to hold her head. "Yesterday evening. He...."

"Did he hurt you? I'll call the police," the woman looked around for Mel's phone.

"No no no," Mel shook her head, getting to her feet shakily. "He just said some things... noticed some things... he shouldn't have. No law was broken."

Ana wasn't so sure about that. But as her eyes moved through the apartment, they landed upon the paintings Mel had been working on and she frowned deeply. Whatever this Dave had said has certainly set the girl off, Ana could see the rawness in the attack on the paintings. Oh how beautiful they had been and now.... now they were just... angry.

"In the very least, I will go and talk to this boy who did this to you," her kind eyes went back to the girl.

"As if you could. All I know about him is he was at the coffeehouse yesterday and claims to be a rock star," Mel replied. "Don't worry about it, Ana. Let's just go have our breakfast... as lunch instead."

"Are you sure? If he's a rock star the coffeeshop will be able to tell us who he is and where to find him right?" Ana pressed.

Mel had looked away from the woman to the open door. Her dark eyes were intently fixated upon it.... no on the form that stood in the doorway. Her already pale skin seemed to pale a few more shades, her bottom lip trembled.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"I have a debt to repay," the deep voice replied, entering the apartment. "Your tickets."

He set a single envelope upon her small countertop, his eyes fixated upon hers. Mel's dark eyes hardened into a glare, saying what words she would not in the presence of the venerable woman. Dave merely smiled in reaction to her glare, trying to effect her with his smile.

"I don't want them," Mel finally growled.

"Sell them on Ebay for all I care," he replied. "They are yours. I promised you tickets for showing me your work. I keep my promises."

With that he glanced over at the three paintings that had seduced him the evening prior. He had to blink twice to understand what had happened to them. His eyes went back to hers.

"While I would love to stay," he began, "there are a few more things I must see to before the concert Friday. So until then...."

Dave turned and walked out of the open door, leaving Mel once again without words.